Final Payback
by Sue Shay
Summary: Frank has a job to do and he's gonna do it...no matter WHAT Patrick Jane thinks! That doesn't mean it will be easy. Jane is one slick opponent! BTW, as much as I wish and pray and plead and beg, Team Heller won't give me rights to The Mentalist and the wonderful characters involved. I adore them, but I don't own them. Nope.
1. Determined Little Cuss

"Hey, Frank. How's it going?"

Frank looked up from the work table where he was packing his arrow quiver. Smoke from his stubby cigar floated into one eye, making him squint.

"Mornin', Hector. Sup?"

"Not much. Had the evening shift is Paris. Lots of clents but easy-peasy."

Frank nodded and rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Sure. Paris. No moving targets. Lots of atmosphere. You got a break."

Hector nodded, the movement causing his whispy thin hair to float angelically around his nearly bald head.

"Tomorrow it's Moscow in February," he said with mild complaint. "Lots of cabin fever and dissatisfaction; not a lot of anything else. Gonna be a dull day."

Then he gestured toward the quiver. "What's with you? You're loading for bear?"

Frank pinched his cigar between short, fat fingers and drew in a mouthful of smoke. With a sigh, he blew the smoke out again and flicked ash onto the mist-covered ground.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. That's why they pay me the big bucks. They're sending me out to shoot bear."

"Who? Mr. Potter?"

Rheumy blue eyes glared at Hector a moment.

"I'm good, but I'm not _that _good."

"Hitler?"

"No."

"Scrooge?"

Frank rolled his eyes before giving Hector an annoyed glare. "Scrooge is not one of ours."

"Would have been a good case though. You have to admit."

Frank shrugged and went back to selecting arrows. He pushed a few aside and picked up a vicious looking red one that sported a wicked barb head. Something about the glint on its point screamed that it could pierce kevlar if launched with expert technique from the right bow. If an arrow could have heat-seeking capabilities, this had it. Hector floated back with fear.

"Whoa! Where did you get that?"

Again Frank rolled his eyes. "That's why they pay me the big bucks," he repeated. "When the prey is this wiley and elusive, you have to compensate with better armaments."

"Yeah, but-"

"Yeah, nothing. We were ordered by top brass to lay off for two years. Now that it's open season on Jane, I'm gonna bag him but good. He owes me. He's _mine_."

"Him? _That's _who you're going after?" Hector's tiny wings fluttered in nervous excitement. They'd been trying to shoot Patrick Jane for twelve years!

"Cupid's direct orders."

"Daaay-am. What about Teresa?"

Frank's cherub face flushed under the five o'clock shadow. He didn't want to talk about that incident. Damn that Jane leaning forward at the exact wrong moment! Poor Lisbon was never the same after taking that arrow full in the chest.

"She's...she's been fine. Lady Luck's dice rolled snake-eyes and sent the FBI to make her job disappear. She hasn't been exactly pleased with Jane of late. It was a good distraction."

"But still..."

"Listen! It's done. And I'm still trying to live down only nicking him on the beach. I'm not going to make that mistake again!"

"Well, you're the pro, I guess..." Hector began nervously.

Frank clamped the cigar between his teeth and rearranged the quiver contents in order to accommodate the deluxe Undying Love 2000 arrow.

"Have a lovely day," he said gruffly as he picked up his bow and quiver, settling them bandolier style on his torso, carefully avoiding trapping his battle-scarred wings. With the equipment in place, he fluttered his little cherub wings and flew out of the locker room.

This was going to be the job that he could finally retire on. This time he was going to finally bring love to Patrick Jane.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Frank's trials and tribulations continue. -**_


	2. More Misses

Those damned geese! Thousands of them clogged the flyway. If they didn't get out of his freakin' way, he was going to miss Jane's departure from Venezuela. If Cherub Frank, brigadier general in Cupid's West Coast Love Archery Brigade, weren't in such a hurry, he would save energy by tagging onto the end of their flight formation on their way to Central America.

Frank wove in and out of the V formation and gave the leader a dirty look. He knew that bird, a non-conformist who refused to mate for life like Canada geese usually do. There was a terrible temptation to poke the bird in his tail-feathers with one of Frank's backup darts, just to remind the fowl what makes the world go round.

But he couldn't risk losing a single resource. Jane was a tough cookie and Frank had learnt his lesson about wasted opportunities and missed shots. All those rounds he'd aimed at Jane during the interlude at the beach? He was so certain that at least one of them would stick, but the shield of righteous anger and bloodlust had hardened the human over the ten years he'd spent searching for Red John. Worsened by the numerous close calls, the layers of bitter resentment and straight guilt meant nothing was getting through.

Now things were desperate for the little Winged General. He might even empty his quiver and then depend on those backup darts.

If it came to that and he still failed, there'd be hell to pay. It might even cost him his rank. Busted back down to Colonel? Right before his well-earned retirement? No way!

He zoomed on, feeling the pull southward like one of the millions of birds making the same journey, although for a slightly different purpose. He glanced down, scanning Mississippi's shoreline beneath him. It was still recovering from Katrina in some ways, but overall the love of the residents had conquered all.

With an approving nod, he continued on over the gulf, ignoring the lovers' pull of the many species in the water beneath him. Any success was nice, but there was only one lover he had in his sights and nothing was going to divert his path.

Arriving at the island during the night, Frank tuned into Jane's frequency and triangulated the strongest vibe, except…it was confusing. There was Jane affection coming from a dozen different spots, including a distant one at the hotel. He flittered around the area, isolating them.

A fat middle-aged woman who was dreaming about a kiss she received on her cheek.

A small boy reliving the joy that magic had put a 25 cent piece in his pocket so all his friends could go to the Mercado and buy candy to share.

A tailor whose work was stymied by the stubborn Americano who wouldn't take lessons in style, yet whose healthy body did great justice to the masculinity of his beautifully make shirt. Even if it didn't have charreteras.

At the hotel, in the servants' quarters, a young man glowed with pride that his friend Patrick had removed a vicious bastard from the island. Franklin was very proud to have been a part of getting rid of Otero. His little sisters and brothers would be safe. The only sad emotion was he watched his good friend get onto a bus and leave, probably forever.

_Left? Dammit!_

Frank flittered to the airport, checking the boards for the current flights heading northwest. There was one going to Sacramento (with a Miami layover) in six hours. He was better off starting across the Gulf of Mexico and perhaps snagging a plane tail along the way. Whatever happened, he had to get moving immediately!

* * *

The sun was just clearing the horizon when Frank arrived on the roof of the FBI headquarters in Sacramento. Rolling his head around to stretch his neck, he then removed his quiver and bow where they were crossed bandolier style across his chest. There was irritation, like a friction burn, which he rubbed gently as he took a deep breath.

But something was wrong. The 'Jane' sensation he thought he was following wasn't in fact Jane. It was gratitude…from the people. Parents, brothers, aunts and uncles, all still grateful to Patrick Jane for reducing the underlying dread that a loved one would be the next victim of that terrible serial killer. The fear wasn't gone completely, but now it seemed so much less likely.

_Dammit… _

_Again._

He'd just flown four thousand miles, dodging commercial jets, geese and spy planes. The last thing he wanted to do was take to the wing again.

No, the real last thing he wanted to do was lose out on shooting the grand prize Patrick Jane. When word got around that the season had been reopened on the arrow-resistant love-curmudgeon, every hack cherub would be out there, taking pot-shots at _his_ prize.

The possibility put some very un-Love Archer thoughts through his little bald head. He hoped it didn't get back to Cupid.

With a growl, he stowed his implements into flight position again, chomped down on his unlit cigar and turned north. He didn't know quite where his quarry was, but for the love of Jane, he was going to find the next best thing.

* * *

The tell-tale "glitter" clung to the still air of Teresa Lisbon's snug cottage. Frank sniffed the air. His frown deepened.

_That's not mine. That's not…artificial, either._

It was the natural stuff, not the fairy-dust prompted by his errant arrow four years before, nor anyone else's shot. No, Lisbon was really in love.

Frank flittered around her quaint little residence, looking for the town of Denzel's police chief. She wasn't there. What _was_ there were signs that she'd departed in a very big hurry. The neat bedroom with a nicely made bed and orderly vanity looked fine except the closet door standing open, a dresser drawer pulled out and half emptied, and a few clothes hangers dumped carelessly on the floor. A large gap yawned on the closet floor, looking very much like a missing suitcase.

_Well, I'll be damned. Teresa Lisbon is running after the man she loves._

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ Okay, so this two-shot is turning into a three-shot. I'll try to get it done soon._


	3. Locked On Target

_Y'all know Lisbon is in Washington, right? By any chance did you notice that Lisbon is the police chief for the town of Denzel? Denzel, Washington? _

_Terrible, terrible, terrible…but I crack myself up with dumb jokes like that all the time. Very easily amused._

_(When I wrote the other chapter, we didn't know the town was Cannon River.)_

* * *

Brigadier General Frank of Cupid's Air Force was at a loss as he flew around Teresa Lisbon's cozy home looking for clues as to where she went in such a hurry. Her sheriff's uniform was tossed onto a chair. A pile of hairpins was stacked on a shelf in front of the bathroom vanity mirror. There was no toothbrush, even though the toothpaste sat on the shelf. Definitely overnight or multiday travel.

The answering machine had no messages indicating where she was going. He attempted the old trope of reading the impressions on a notepad to see if she'd copied directions or took a phone number. All he found out is that she'd written 'coffee' on her grocery list twice.

He could have contacted the main office for Lisbon's and/or Jane's exact coordinates but there was a distinct possibility that there was a spy in Cupid's administration. Frank would take no chances of blowing this commission just because some up-and-coming hotshot needs to make his or her reputation.

_He's mine he's mine he's mine he's mine he's mine…_

Frank flew out of the house and scanned the horizon hoping something would give him bearings. With the FBI involved, there was no telling where they'd taken Jane. The only lead he had was Lisbon's trail. The love-glow was still fresh enough to give him some clue if he found a spot where she had stayed for a while. Unfortunately Denzel was about halfway between SeaTac and Portland so where did she fly out of? Or had she even flown anywhere? There were FBI offices in both Seattle and Portland. The Office hadn't said where he was going, just that he was fair game after leaving Venezuela.

_Damn_.

Okay, Frank had to be smart about this. He didn't rise to Brig. General by wearing holes in his wings chasing quarry to the corners of the universe. Still, he had to go somewhere because sitting there with his arrows getting cold was a very bad idea. One direction is as good as another, so he started for SeaTac, since it had more flights and more options than Portland.

This _was_ the FBI he was dealing with. The information Frank got was that they had somehow talked Jane into coming back to the States because they couldn't haul him back legally. Besides they'd wanted to keep it quiet in case any of the Blake Association jokers wanted to kill Jane in retribution for breaking them up.

So… where would the FBI take him? The word was they might hold him illegally; more than 48 hours without indicting him officially. Did that branch of the Department of Justice have any secret offices somewhere? Hmmm…not Guantanamo. They needed _easier_ access to him, not harder.

Hadn't Frank visited an office complex in Austin once? He'd been sent to shoot a prisoner who'd fallen in love with a very nasty terrorist. Cupid knew this prisoner had to experience a change of heart or there would be dire consequences to the future of world peace. Frank found this prisoner and pulled off the shot with ease. No fuss, no muss.

_In Austin._

It was worth a shot.

* * *

The nice part about Seattle was how easy it was to catch a flight to anywhere. Amongst the many commercial airlines in the area and the military bases all over the place, Frank pretty much had his choice of accommodations. He hitched a ride with a private jet flying to Houston, and amused himself supervising a tryst between an oil exec and his secretary. Boy, was she going to be surprised when he started following her around like a puppy! It was worth it to Frank, expending one of his darts. He needed the success under his belt.

When he dropped out of the belly of the plane after they entered Texas airspace, he got the shock of his four-hundred-year existence. Ahead the air practically glowed. Flexing his sore wings, Frank shook his head and stared again.

Yes, Austin was definitely the right location. He zoomed ahead, not even triangulating to make certain the building on Research Boulevard was the correct address. Shooting through the walls and flying past Kimball Cho, Frank arrowed into the conference room and was nearly blinded by the haze of tell-tale glitter. He turned his back to it and fanned his wings a little to clear his view.

_Sonnuvabitch! If that little twerp showoff Melvin Marvelous beat me here, I'll tear off his wings with my bare hands and hang 'em in my den…_

In the center of the love cloud, Jane and Lisbon were locked in a tight embrace, telling how each had missed the other. Frank scooped a handful of the cloud and shoved it in his mouth. After a taste of the delicate, sweet flavor, his jaw dropped open.

_It's the real thing._

He flew closer, circling the two as their hug ended. Sure, it tasted similar to what was floating around Lisbon's cottage, but it was…different, as though it were Lisbon's love and something else. It had a salty tang, like an ocean child has for the sea. Definitely masculine love for a female and…

_Earl Grey tea? Seriously?_

Frank stared at Jane's face as the eyes never left off gazing at Lisbon. Jane's smile was joyful and warm and genuine. Circling the two repeatedly, Frank sought out any sign that another archer had gotten there before him.

In Jane's back were ashen remnants of some of Frank's shots two years prior, barely clinging to that indescribable aura of protection that Patrick Jane had built around himself starting in his childhood.

Frank recognized it immediately. Major Lorenzo the Mediocre (ret.) had started that particular 'scabbing over' when Jane was thirteen and a half and needed to learn humility in love. Lorenzo's arrow sunk deeply into Young Patrick, but missed the intended counterpart completely, a sweet young thing named Victoria Landers, daughter of an animal wrangler. The despairing (and stubborn) Patrick almost gave up on romance completely, had it not been for the warm and darling Angela Ruskin. The two endured a rocky courtship but Patrick finally won out.

Which only toughened Lorenzo's 'scabbing over' when Fate intervened with that nasty McAllister.

But here Jane was now, his self-preservation aura still intact, but...there was a distinct hole in it. From this gap on his chest came Jane's love for Lisbon, billowing so thickly, Frank was actually finding his eyes watering.

Yeah. That was all. It was the choking quality of the love cloud that made Frank tear up. An old cherub like him had seen too much in the Industry to be moved by love finding an old curmudgeon like Patrick Jane.

Frank wiped his cheek dry, set his bow firmly across his chest, and set off to find Cupid for a chat. Brigadier General Frank was too young to retire. There were still love matches out there to be made.

Besides…Cho was still single. Now _there_ was a challenge to make a career. No doubt, Frank would be retired by the end of the month.

* * *

_**Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are always appreciated.**_


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